


I Believe in Four

by Benedicthiddleston



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt, One-Shot, Post-Reichenbach, theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benedicthiddleston/pseuds/Benedicthiddleston
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly in the aftermath of the news that Sherlock Holmes... is dead. one-shot. Post-Reichenbach Fall. Theory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Believe in Four

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to ff.net on 1/19/2012 - transferring all worthy fanfics to A03/deleting ff.net account. 
> 
> One-shot. Unbetaed
> 
> Don't own anyone or anything!!!!!

_Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive. Your friends will die if you don't._

_John._

_Oh, not just John. Everyone._

_Mrs. Hudson._

_Everyone._

_Lestrade._

_3 bullets, 3 gunmen, 3 victims – there is no stopping them now._

_Unless my people see you jump._

* * *

It was the red on his face, the red dried in his hair that made her cringe. It was the sad and forlorn look etched on his still face that made her stomach clench. It was the heartbeat beneath her fingers that made her sigh in relief. It was the fact that Sherlock Holmes had faked his dead that made her own heart beat out of control.

When the call had come in, the shaky voice of a young doctor claiming Sherlock Holmes was dead, Molly Hooper had gripped the edge of the counter, trying hard not to faint. The plan, what he had asked of her – she wasn't ready. She. Was. Not. Ready.

Now Sherlock's body was lying on _her_ table – with one quirk to her morgue. She was a medical examiner. She worked with dead bodies. Sherlock Holmes had been pronounced dead. So what was that quirk?

Taking a deep breath, she wrung out a wet rag from a wash basin on the cart beside her and gently started wiping away the red that streaked his face. In a few hours, he would awake, and she would be the only individual on earth to know the truth – that his death would become his life. Much to the dismay of Molly's persistence, Sherlock blocked her prodding when she told him he shouldn't try to hide from Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade – and most importantly, Watson. Sherlock trusted her to be his confidant in this – to keep quiet. It would be the only way to keep them safe – all of them. Even keep _the world_ safe. Why Sherlock trusted her and not someone else – Molly could only guess.

Now Molly had to confirm his death – even though his heart was beating, his breathing was slow and even, and his eyes still their beautiful reflection of a world of mystery. Always the crime solver. _Always the consulting detective_.

She continued cleaning his face, her mind somehow drifting to _what if_. What if Sherlock had really died? What if Moriarty had never come around? What if? What if fate had not handed her this dealing? What if she had never met Sherlock Holmes? She would be lonely, lost, confused – maybe even happy. But at that point in time, she was relieved. She _knew_ Sherlock, and he was _alive_. That alone was a miracle.

Her back turned to her work, the water within the basin now red, she decided to get cleaner water, his mess of hair next. She was determined to go through most of the motions, even though she was doing her work on a living body, not a dead one. No autopsy here. What she didn't expect as she walked towards the sink was for Sherlock to sit up at that exact moment, sprinkling water all over the floor. The basin she carried hit the floor as she turned, a shocked look written all over her face. She didn't even have to utter a word.

"How long was I out?" Molly could hear the factual question in a way no one else could. She could tell when he was sad. Only her though. She didn't count, but in her heart, she knew she did. Or he wouldn't have asked her to do this task for him.

She stumbled over her words to answer correctly, "Ten, no, wait, twelve hours?" She held uncertainty. He hadn't been in her morgue but two hours now, but he had been in the emergency room for ages. She had tried to keep time through the news, but she lost pace after a while.

He gave her one of his understanding looks, nodding his head. "And the news?"

She braced herself for delivering this news. But it was necessary. "The whole city, including Dr. Watson and Mrs. Hudson, and Detective Inspector Lestrade, believe you to have committed suicide."

He nodded once more before he realized his head was covered in something red and sticky, and he was only clad in a simple blue sheet. _Why is it always a sheet?_ His face showed his slight disgust.

"Oh, well, yes, I have clothes for you sitting – I mean, they are over there on the counter," Molly blushed, pointing to the clothes that sat a few feet away from where Sherlock sat. She should have realized this probably was not the situation he would have preferred to be stuck in with her in particular. "I don't have a shower here, so you can use a basin to clean your hair. I was just starting to –" she was interrupted, but in the most sincere way – something she was not accustomed to coming from Sherlock.

"Thank you, Molly. For helping me. For… everything."

Molly stood there, still in shock from his instantaneous wake, but also his sincerity. She gulped. "Why – why did you ask me to help you?"

Sherlock gave her that _exact same look_ he had given her when she had said she didn't count. _Is this look becoming a thing_? She wondered.

He was quiet when he finally confessed, "Moriarty only believed I had three friends in the whole world. Mrs. Hudson, my land lady. Lestrade, the one who pulled all the strings for me. And Watson, my roommate, my associate… and greatest of all, my soul keeper. Moriarty had never understand, never seen you. Never thought there could be someone else. And I guessed that _before_ we met on that roof. That is why I came to you. Because Moriarty did not and could not second guess me. Couldn't stay ahead of me forever. I knew what I was doing by going up on that roof. It all ended in one death and one fake death. My friends – those that Moriarty knew about – are safe. And you, you are safe because he didn't know, he didn't need to know, and I have complete trust in you, Molly. You _do_ count."

She was speechless. She didn't know how to answer, even contend with that. _I count_.

"Is there a bathroom around to change in?" Sherlock slipped off the table, clutching the sheet around him. He had lost her for a second. She stared at him, watching fake blood drip from his hair onto his shoulder and slide down his arm. _I count_.

"Or maybe I should ask if you have another wash basin?" She finally heard him, blinking, seeing his smiling, teasing face. She realized she had kind of disconnected. She was back again.

"Oh, right," she stooped to pick up the fallen basin and take it to the sink. "I'll fill this one and you can clean yourself up."

She was headed for the sink when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Molly, I meant it all."

She nodded, not trusting her voice for the emotions she was feeling right at that moment. _I count_. And she counted to the most wonderful, crazy, amazing man on the planet. How did that work out again? Fate?

She silently filled the wash basin, setting it down beside the sink. "I'll leave you alone so you can clean up and change. I'll be upstairs."

He agreed and nodded, watched her leave in a hurry, her face flushed. So, he was right. She not only cared, but she did her job _well_. And she counted. He had assumed she had known it before now, but apparently he had not been good at confirming that fact. When she had told him she didn't count, he had been confused. Shocked. And then in good nature, he'd shown her the worth she was to him. She was the only one who knew he was alive. And that was all that mattered. That she was worth it. His confidant.

_No, Moriarty… I have four friends. Four amazing, wonderful friends._


End file.
